Brave New World
by public static void
Summary: AU. Harry chooses death instead of fighting back, leaving the ones who believed in him at the hands of the Dark Lord.
1. The End

_For the **Ultimate Battle Competition** : an AU action that changes the outcome of something important in canon. In this case, Harry chose to die instead of waking up to keep fighting._

* * *

"I want it to end," Harry said tiredly, the adrenaline and fear from the battle having faded enough for him to clearly think what he wanted. "I played my part and I just want to end this."

Dumbledore sighed sadly, but nodded. He understood what his pupil felt and after everything he did to ensure Harry would fulfill his destiny, he knew he couldn't push him towards another wrong choice.

"Then board the train, and face your choices, Harry."

The boy nodded gravely, staggering to the most vividly colored train and got into a nearby wagon. He sat in a compartment and closed his eyes, relaxing after a full year of running away.

Dumbledore saw him through the window and marveled at his young student's courageous decision. It was one thing to stand and fight, and another completely to understand when the time for the next adventure came. Harry was wiser than him.

The train whistled and went away, leaving Dumbledore and a wraith in the white station.

* * *

When Hagrid appeared with Harry's dead body, Ginny was half mad with grief and half expecting Harry to jump forward and continue the fight. The Harry she knew didn't give up. He put everyone ahead of him and stood behind them to make sure they got the good they deserved. Surely, he would have found the way to stay with them. To stay with her and push her to overcome her fears and help the shredded society to mend.

But he didn't woke up.

Not when she cried out his name, or when Neville took his place as the leader and commanded them to fight. Not when Voldemort finally won and everything became the nightmare they feared. Harry just stayed dead, his corpse on the ground in the middle of a battle, forgotten and broken.

Ginny didn't want to believe that, but Harry was no longer.

* * *

"Believing in this boy, believing that love conquers all evils... That was your downfall," Lord Voldemort calmly stated as he walked around the few left alive. Ginny noticed Luna shivering, though she didn't know if it was of fear and rage. "Power is absolute, and at the end it's the only thing that matters."

"Do we kill them, my Lord?" asked an eager Bellatrix, her wand already glowing green and her eyes viciously focused on Ginny. She didn't let the woman know of her fear, looking her straight in the eyes and silently challenging her, ready to fight even when tied up and wandless.

"No, my dear Bella," the monster said with gentleness that reeked of lousy theatrics. "Too much pure blood has been spilled already. They are as pure as you and I, only misguided."

Ginny saw Hermione wanting to cry out the lies of the monster and saw her brother calming her down. Ron was weak. He would follow the Dark Lord's lead only to protect himself from any harm. At least he would try to protect Hermione too. She frowned at the same time that tears welled in her eyes; Harry had protected her from Voldemort once, but he was not here to do so now. She was alone.

"What will we do with them?" asked Lucius Malfoy more calmly, and looking regal even with bags under his eyes and blood and dust on his face. "We outnumber them, but you know they won't back down even now, my Lord. They are too proud."

Ginny smiled when she heard Neville snort. Bellatrix was half the way towards him, her wand ready to further torture him, but the Dark Lord stopped her with a single hand gesture.

"The winning side of any war must show mercy, Bellatrix," he said sternly. "They are our prisoners, yes, but we are equals now. We are all on the same level, as my new legislatures will say when we redact them."

Ginny saw him turn around to speak to all of them.

"This is a new era for all of us, magic's blessed children," he said, hands extended in a sign of welcoming them to this new era he proclaimed. Ginny felt sick, knowing his words meant the wizarding kind will, once more, be elevated and the rest of the magical beings and creatures demoted even further. "We let our mother waste and fade, but she will be stronger now that we are united in a single cause. You are prisoners of war, but her children's nonetheless, and shall be treated as such."

He raised his wand, the wand Harry deserved, and casted a spell over them that left Ginny feeling weak and sleepy.

"Find any place to sleep, and don't try to hide, run away, or fight," he said, gesturing towards what was left of Hogwarts. "You won't be able to."

They were magically untied and herded together.

"Follow me," said Narcissa Malfoy after a few quiet words with Voldemort. "I will be your hostess."

Ginny saw Neville grimace and understood. How could she be their hostess, when Hogwarts was their home, not hers? But they could not fight anymore. Not without Harry, and not without their wands and wills. They were led to a big room near the kitchens, when Narcissa materialized a few dozens of beds, complete with their sheets and covers. How could she do that? After a battle in which she actively participated, she had the strength and the magic to conjure this many things?

"Please don't antagonize our Lord any further," she added in a soft voice that left Ginny's blood screaming for this nightmare to end. "You will only make it worse for you and those you love."

She went away, leaving behind not chaos as Ginny would have thought, but nimble people with no purpose in life, with no way to mourn their dead, with weak wills that would not let them fight.

Neville put a hand on her shoulder and she hugged him tight.

"They won," Ginny whispered, only now realizing what Voldemort accomplished with his mercy. "They won."


	2. A meeting and a retrospection

For the **Ultimate Battle Competition. -** 600 words, Death Eaters have a conversation with Voldemort

* * *

"Do you think it's wise to let them be so freely, my Lord?" asked Lucius, his eyes fixated on his Lord, quietly observing the tiredness he displayed, even if covered up in pride and accomplishment.

The Dark Lord was sitting in the Transfiguration teacher's office, a snake in the middle of a cowered lion's den, looking as imposing in his rest as he had during the battle with the dead Potter boy.

"They lost, Lucius," he said in a wise and sad voice. "They were brave and strong, and still we defeated them fairly. They are broken now."

Lucius stayed silent, watching as Bellatrix waited for their Lord to call her, obviously expecting some kind of reward for being loyal through all this time. But their Lord did not call her.

"Your wife has been useful, managing the prisoners, Lucius," Voldemort continued as he searched for the small fractures on his wand. "And even if your son was useless on his mission, what little he managed to accomplish helped our cause."

Lucius waited, trying to guess what his Lord was trying to say.

"He does't deserve the praise, Master," said Bellatrix, breaking her self-imposed silence and trying to convince her Lord to let Lucius remain beneath her. "What my brother-in-law did was out of fear, not out of loyalty."

"What he did was valuable, Bella. As much as your faithful work, though with less honorable intentions," answered Voldemort, appeasing Bellatrix. "No other is as devoted to our cause as you are, Bellatrix, but it doesn't mean Lucius is not loyal."

"I failed you before, my Lord," Lucius said. "But I'm your man," _And Bellatrix cares more for you than for the cause, unlike me_ , he thought.

Lord Voldemort chuckled and stood up. "Severus said he was my man, and now his corpse is cold and alone."

Bellatrix smiled ruthlessly.

"He deserved it."

"There is no doubt of that, Bellatrix," said the Dark Lord. "And yet we don't have the time to talk of him. He doesn't matter anymore. What we should be focusing on is how to build my rule. Who to trust, who to manipulate, and who to curse."

Both Death Eaters nodded.

"The remains of the Order of the Phoenix should be killed," said Bellatrix, more composed than before. "But as you said, my Lord, in their ranks flows pure blood. My sister is a shameful example."

Lord Voldemort nodded. "The Black family, once prosper and noble, fell into decay, as many other families. We will restore the balance and reestablish an order in which everyone can fit in, where they belong."

"Does that include mudbloods?" asked Lucius, interested in his Master's plans. He had always found the political side of the Dark Lord more appealing to him and his ways, than the mad side which only cared about bloodlust. He knew his Lord was intelligent and eloquent, and in this new era they had begun those traits would serve him more than terrorism.

"Mudbloods and squibs are magical too, Lucius," he answered with only a hint of disgust. "We will find a use for them, but first let us talk of the important individuals. Those of blood as pure as yours."

Lucius and Bellatrix nodded.

"We will serve you as we have always done, my Lord," Lucius told him honestly. "We are yours to command as you see fit."

Voldemort seemed pleased with his words, and grabbed parchment from the miraculously untouched desk. His thoughts appeared to materialize on it as ink, black as the night.

"Let us start with our youth," he said ceremoniously as he wrote on the parchment. "Lucius, you will be in charge of procuring all of Hogwarts records. Education is, after all, the key to a lawful, obedient citizen."

Lucius nodded. "Then I will have to say, my Lord, that qualified teachers are required for the school, and this time we can't let any of them be Dumbledore's sympathizers. Most of the damage to our ranks was done by them, using the students for their means."

"I agree, my Lord," Bellatrix said, surprising Lucius. She was not the one to question Lord Voldemort, and when somebody contradicted him she was the first one to ask for their blood. "They can't be trusted."

"I already know the teachers we need," Voldemort said. "What I need is the number of students from first to seventh year, as well as their deeds during this war. Longbottom and the Weasleys should be made an example of behaviors I won't tolerate. Just don't let them become martyrs."

"And the rest of the Order?" Lucius asked.

"They don't matter anymore," Voldemort said. "The sons and daughters of cowards fought a war they were too afraid to acknowledge. This is a world of youth."

The Death Eaters nodded and were dismissed, leaving Lord Voldemort to rest and enjoy the rest of the day, a day celebrated not only by him but by all of those who know their cause is worthy. Finally, after half a century, magic will be held above the mundane.

In his solitude, the Dark Lord mourned. The loss of both Dumbledore and Potter granted him a well deserved victory, but left him _alone_. Gone were the two most powerful wizards besides him, the only two men who could compete against him in any way. It was a sad day, indeed, but that _sentiment_ had no place in his mind.

He now had accomplished his lifelong dream: being in charge of Britain. Satisfaction spread through his mind, thinking that the plans he made on his youth would finally be set in motion. A orphanage for the magic bearing children, being mudblood or squibs would matter only to make them feel integrated in the circles they belonged to.

The problem would be with the halfbloods. They compromised the majority of the population, and most of them were practically worshiping the old ideas proposed by Dumbledore and a meek Ministry.

What Voldemort wondered, is how the purebloods followed Potter? There were many young witches and wizards from old lineages battling them, all at Potter's side. What did he promised them? Glory? No, Potter was not like that. It must have been his charm. Voldemort snorted. In that, they were too similar, though the young boy would have never believed him or wanted the comparison.

But Potter was dead now, and in spite of all of those who fought at his side and against Voldemort, he was the one who emerged victorious from the lengthy war.

Now, all that mattered was the future. He had to make sure he presented a strong front to all who used to oppose him. He could not lure them to his side, but he could convince them it was the right side. The only choice for all of them, if they wanted to keep magic in their blood.

Voldemort was no fool. He might have gotten madder over the years, but the destruction of his Horcruxes left him feeling... younger, saner. He now saw the mistakes he made and understood what needed to be done to amend them. What did not change was his determination and his ambitions. He knew he would have to make the people see him in a new light. The same ideals, a different man.

And as much as it pained him to admit it, it was all because of Potter.


	3. An impossible choice

A week has passed since the fateful Battle that left him and his friends as the losing side; the ones who could not be strong enough to defeat one of evil's many faces (a face without a nose, if Neville might add). It's still difficult for him and for Ginny to see their friends so downcast, starting with Luna.

The cheery girl is now only a shadow that follows Ginny around, and Neville doesn't know how to make her better. He is not good at that, he supposses. In all these years he hasn't been able to make his parents better, how could he help Luna?

Everything is made worse one morning, when Bellatrix Lestrange comes to take him.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you, Longbottom," she sings in a sickly childish voice. "The baby boy has behaved wrong. The baby boy will be punished."

He shots Ginny a meaningful look, a silent if I don't return that leaves her almost in tears. Neville understands her better than anyone else. Harry's death weights on her shoulders everyday even more than it does on Ron and Hermione; they know they helped him, and Ginny has to live with the guilt of remaining behind, even if not by choice.

"What does your Lord want, Bellatrix?" Neville dares to ask the mad woman, earning a deep cackle.

"A surprise," she simply says in her raspy, shreaking voice.

And it is a surprise to see Lord Voldemort sitting on McGonagall's classroom, surely ignoring that said Professor is wallowing in grief as he calmly drinks a potion Neville doesn't recognise.

"Ah, Longbottom," he says. "I hope you and your friends are well."

The implied treath does not pass unnoticed by Neville as he nods. "We are as well as we can be, given our unfortunate circumstances."

His sarcasm makes Lord Voldemort laugh, a grim sound coming from his mouth. It's right then when Neville first notices the change in Voldemort's eyes: they're not unfocused with madness and rage anymore. The red iris is gone, replaced by an eerie brown that speaks of power instead of insanity.

"I am not only a commander of men, but a gentle ruler, too," the wizard says. "As long as you are obedient, I shall not kill you. Your blood is the same as mine, after all."

Neville bites his lip to stop himself from saying he's purer than Voldemort.

"Is that why you made Bellatrix bring me here?" he asks instead, curiousity permeating his voice.

"We need to have a serious conversation," Voldemort says, his tone of voice changing from treathening to negociating. "For that, we will have a little trip."

He offers Neville his wand and he grabs it quickly, not quite believing it. "Apparate away. There is only one place to go. Let your magic guide you, Longbottom," commands Voldemort.

Neville does, feeling the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube. Once it stops, Neville opens his eyes and sees white and mint green. A known place in which he has lived joy, sadness, and anger.

St. Mungo's Hospital. More specifically, the Janus Thickey Ward.

A moment after his arrival, before Neville can scream or cry or curse, Voldemort appears at the door of his parents' hospital room.

"Come on, Neville," he says mockingly. "We don't want to make your parents wait any longer. They've been here for a long time already."

Tears form in Neville's eyes, burning his eyes with wrath. He dares to bring him here? No matter how much his Death Eaters (and now even some members of the broken Order) proclaim him a merciful wizard, the Dark Lord will always be the same cruel psychopath.

Neville enters the room with his hands fisted and his arms shaking. His wand glows red, though only Voldemort notices.

"In 1980, only seven people were strong enough to stop me," Voldemort said, reminiscing of a time almost lost in his mind during his madness. "Two of them were the Potters. Other two, the Prewett brothers. Another was Dumbledore. The last two were these wraiths."

At Voldemort's words, Neville threw himself against him, making his mother jump backwards and his father to turn his head to the other side. Voldemort laughed cruelly.

"Be careful. You don't want to scare them."

Neville sobbed angrily, walking to his mother and trying to calm down her own anguished sobs.

"They are still strong, Longbottom," Voldemort says, positioning himself besides Neville's mother. "They're alive after all these years, still fighting the damage to their bodies. Too bad they won't recover."

Neville's father chose that moment to yell, making a nurse come quickly with a sedative potion. Neville tried to contain the tears at seeing his parents more vulnerable than ever before, with the madman that brought them this fate.

He hates to be there, standing right in front of them and not being able to help them in any way. He loathes being there because of Voldemort's so called mercy, without any possibility of vendetta. He can't help but to cry, breaking down finally after what it seems like years of trying to be strong.

He doesn't know how much time passes before his mother is kneeling on the floor with her arms around his shoulders, her eyes unfocused and confusion painted on her features. Neville watches as Lord Voldemort stares at her with amusement.

"Strange, how mothers always want to spare their children's of pain," he says thoughtfully. "My own mother died the day I was born, even though I know she was capable of surviving. She gave up, but your mother is still alive. She is strong. Why aren't you?"

Voldemort's words sting, but Neville is more confused by the meaning of them.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asks with a broken spirit. "Make your point quickly and take me back to my prison. Just leave them alone. Let them rest."

Voldemort smiles again, showing Neville all his immorality.

"This could be your fate, Longbottom," he explained, pulling him up by the shoulder, not caring that Neville's mother remained on the floor. "You and all your friends could be the same as your poor parents. I'm sure you find their end honorable, but was the bloodshed worth, if you too give up? Potter did, will you?"

Neville stares at his parents for a second. His father is stretching his fingers in a corner, making them pop with a sickly noise, while his mother stares at the ceiling, eyes lost and mouth chewing a piece of bubblegum.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks Voldemort, facing him with red and swollen eyes. "You need something from me. Something your Death Eaters can't give you. What is it?"

The brown eyes of the Dark Lord glow with malevolence. "All I want is a bright future for all of us, Neville. As bright as _Fiendfyre_."


	4. The possibility of a lie

Ginny immediately notices the change in Neville's behavior. She narrowed her brown eyes as soon as he was brought back and locked with her and Luna in the small room they had shared for the past days. Neville's own eyes cast down in a defeated manner. He didn't speak, not even to say he was alright, though it was clear he wasn't. Ginny didn't approach him, instead choosing to wait for him to tell her everything on his own time.

She turned her face to the window, not really looking outside but enjoying the sunlight entering through them. Lately, it had felt as if all sunshine had been sucked out of her life, but she fougth that feeling with all her being. There was much to live and fight for, even if Harry's death left them all grieving and in despair.

"Are you alright, Neville?" she heard Luna ask and shivered.

Luna's voice was raspy, as if she had yelled for a long time in spite of staying almost completely in silence since Hagrid brought back Harry's body. She had taken his death the worst, though Ginny would say she was the one who would suffer from his death the longest. He had not only been her boyfriend, but the example of a good man; Harry was a saviour in more ways than one, even if the prophecy was bullshit in her mind.

Harry was not special because of the words of a random witch, but for the heart inside him and the courage he had.

"Neville?" Luna repeated, not earning a word from the young wizard who stayed at still as a tree, staring at his own right hand as if he had commited a felony.

"Leave him, Luna," Ginny told her.

The blond girl turned to stare at her with harshness, believing Ginny had given up on Neville. That would never happen, just as she would never give up on Harry.

"He was taken to Voldemort, Ginevra," Luna spat, the two names sounding like curses on her lips. "He is in bad condition and we should help him. We are his friends."

"Neville is strong, Luna. We all are. We have survived when others didn't and that wasn't done by sitting around when the worst came to us."

* * *

Had Ginny been in Neville's mind she would have heard an explosion of sudden thoughts all at once, all prompted by her words.

Surviving, that was what Voldemort said. Their world needed to survive, and both he and Ginny were right. The magical population would not survive another war amidst themselves, and they needed to do something about that.

Harry would choose to fight, wouldn't he?

Somehow, Neville knew the answer was not as clear to him and Ginny and Luna as it was to the rest of the world. To them, Harry was the man who led them, but Neville knew he was the man who motivated them, who focused on the best solution and not only on what he wanted.

Harry had changed, because Neville remembered the temperament he had shown when Umbridge had come to the castle. By the last days, more specifically the last day Neville had encountered Harry, he was different. He put the needs of everyone else over his own need for justice and revenge.

Neville didn't want to, but he had to do it,too.

"He wanted our support," Neville finally told the girls who were quietly fighting over his silence.

He saw the curiosity on Ginny's face and the anger in Luna's; it meant Luna would disagree with his choice.

"Go on," Ginny prompted, grabbing a chair and sitting in front of him, trying to make eye contact with him. Neville only stared at his hand, the hand that shook Lord Voldemort's in sign of a truce.

"Tell me you didn't..." Luna whispered, her eyes unfocused and her words sounding more as if she were talking with herself.

"I shook his hand, and agreed to help him repair the damage we did. I agreed to be the example he needs to make everyone behave as he sees fit. We will be obedient, and in turn he promises peace."

"I suppose that includes Luna and I," Ginny half-asked, putting a hand on his knee. "Neville, it's okay. At the end, what we want is to protect those we love. If this is the way to do it, there is no shame in agreeing."

Luna scoffed at that, and it was that sound that made Neville want to yell. Where was the sweet girl who had optimistic words for everyone? Out of all the negative outcomes, Harry's death and Luna's newfound cynicism were the worst, even worse that being in a country now ruled by Voldemort.

"He is different now," Neville muttered, still evading the girls' looks. "More... subdued? No. More calculating."

"The Horcruxes?" Ginny asked, surely her memory of a dark time in her life bringing her to that conclusion. "If his soul isn't in pieces anymore that means he is human, doesn't it?"

"I don't think a being such as him can be classified as human," Luna said. "But it might have to do with those."

"It doesn't matter," Neville told them, finally bearing the look of worry of Ginny's face. He wanted to hold on to her, to syphoon her strength and take it for himself. "What matters is how to support a reign of peace while making sure we don't become like him, that we don't let him run free killing muggles and torturing people."

The three of them remianed in silence, Ginny's hand finding her way into Neville's; it felt warm and supportive.

"We make sure to be good at whatever charades he sets us, so that he begins to depend on our abilities to lead our friends and our allies," Ginny proposed.

Neville thought it made sense, but he wondered how would three kids manage to manipulate the biggest manipulator? Voldemort had turned the war in his favor, killed Harry, and sent a murderer Dumbledore's way.

"Don't get your hopes up," said a new voice, one that sounded as raspy as Luna's but more refined. "You three alone can't do this, but believe it or not, you are not alone."

Neville couldn't hide his surprise when he saw Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy from the door.


End file.
